


What the.?

by Bumpkin



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Humor, M/M, None - Freeform, other pairing - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:49:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumpkin/pseuds/Bumpkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An insider to the PD still feels like an outsider in MC  but that isn't a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the.?

## What the.?

#### by Bumpkin

Author's website: <http://bumpkin-is.livejournal.com>  
Not mine.  
This was prompted by some old repartee between the host of American Idol, Ryan Seacrest, and the grumpy judge, *snappy* Simon (Cowell), during Season 6 before a Melinda Doolittle performance that I happened to catch while trolling youtube yet again. My mind goes to some very strange places sometimes. heh, transcript of the repartee is after the fic. Again thanks have to go to Karieflybabe for being a rock in betaing and general support.   
(Wordcount: 465)  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

"Dammit! I really hate dresses, and I swear if I _ever_ get my hands on the damn man who created high heels..." 

The homicide detective Rafe and H had on loan to Major Crime for their latest case was not happy with what she was expected to wear while undercover. Rhianne Ocean was not what you would call a girly-girl, more a hard as nails woman who took no guff from anyone. She also didn't tend to baulk at what was needed to get the job done, but in this case she just might be changing her tune. 

"God, how the hell do some women wear these every day and make it look effortless?" 

H chuckled. She could tell he liked the way she was dressed as his eyes wandered over her form and glinted appreciatively. He confirmed her impression by giving her a quick grin and wink. Then she saw a mischievous twinkle appear in his dark eyes and wondered apprehensively what he was up to as he opened his mouth and called over to his partner, 

"Hey Rafe, Rhianne here is having a bit of trouble with the heels part of her undercover outfit - you got any advice from her on how to handle them?" 

Rhianne choked, it was more than obvious that she couldn't believe H had just yelled that across the busy M.C. bullpen. Rafe didn't even look up, he just hollered back. 

"Hey partner, I thought I told you to stay out of my closet!" 

_"Oh my God!"_

Rhianne said in a strangled whisper, it was all she was able to manage. The normally unflappable homicide detective was trying so hard to hold onto her cool, but was finding it very difficult to do. Especially when a widely grinning Blair Sandburg snarked from the corner he shared with his partner, 

"Well hell, why don't the two of you just come out already?" 

"What, you mean like you and Ellison have?" 

H's lightning quick riposte again nearly did her in, but she still managed to hold on even for Jim's dry response. 

"I didn't know we were ever allowed the illusion of being _in_." 

Rhianne managed to keep it together for all of it, even though she wanted desperately to fall down laughing at their antics, she didn't. She had more self control than that, at least she did until Captain Banks slammed into the bullpen and roared out, 

"All right Ladies-" 

That was it, all she wrote. Rhianne was done for. She literally couldn't stand anymore and sagged into a nearby chair as she started to howl with laughter. 

She was laughing so hard that she didn't see Captain Banks look at her absolutely baffled, and then to his highly amused detectives. 

"What in the hell is up with her?" 

-end- 

_Transcribed chatter:_

_Ryan: Simon any advice on the high heels?_ _Simon: You should know Ryan..._  
 _Ryan: Stay out of my closet_  
*Simon: ~Come out.~*  
 _Ryan: This is about the top 12 okay not your wishes._ *Simon: _full belly laughing_ *  
*Ryan: (to audience and camera) We're friends, honest.* 

Now really... 

* * *

End 

What the.? by Bumpkin: bumpkin.is@gmail.com  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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